Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Grace's or anything related to it! Except a copy of the game of course... ok dude behind my seat, would you now be so generous to move that gun away from the back of my head? Thank you.

Chapter 8: Recovery

- Strahta -

'You enter my realm and strive through my lands. You attack my child and slaughter it in my own desert. You possess auras that none of you should have. One of you even has my own. And you attack me, Duplemar, guardian of the Valkines of water. What do you have to say about this?'

Pascal didn't have much time to accommodate to the strange voice that intruded her thoughts. She had barely enough time to realize that she could breathe in water and whose voice she was hearing.

'Do not waste my time.'

Her mind began to race. What answer should she give? What could she do? What were her options?

She had to escape. Cyandine was her best option, even if she would be in one hell of a talk afterwards. But before she brought that plan in motion, what was it the lizard wanted? It had been talking about Auras. Why? Could it mean the auras of life the archives mentioned?

'You need not talk. Think your answer clearly, that will be enough.'

The voice interrupted her thoughts before she could get to the bottom of her questions. But now she knew how to communicate with her captor. Still, her mind was racing with thoughts to catch up what the dragon wanted to know while looking for escape routes. In theory she didn't need speech to summon her Eleth, the ritual was just made to ease to Eleth flow and avoid slip ups in concentration...

She knew that she was running out of time when the head of Duplemar turned towards Hubert. Her lover's feelings towards the dragon were no secret to her. Deep hatred burned in his blue eyes and it sent shivers down Pascal's spine to see his face deteriorated in such a way. This expression had appeared for the first time at the graveyard of Sable Izolle. And right back then she had decided that she didn't like that look on her boyfriend's face.

' You're not answering my question, human,'

With panic she realized that Hubert must have already started talking to the dragon. Whatever plan she had, she had to do so quickly. Otherwise the man she loved would do something stupid. Something very stupid.

'Bonkers, where are my good ideas when I need them?!'

It didn't help that Hubert's and Duplemar's discussions seemed to move on while she was unable to decide on what to do.

'You still didn't answer completely. I will ask another question: How can you have a soul from Fodra and the Lastalia?'

It was that question that triggered every following action of her. Suddenly, the Amarcian just knew what needed to be done. The beast wanted information. She had information. And even if she had to make half of the explanations up as she went along she still had more knowledge than her captor. That was the ace she could still play.

'I know it!'

There was no waver in the thought that dominated her mind. She had to draw the beast's attention off of Hubert.

'I know it!'

Slowly, the head turned towards her. Quickly her thoughts moved on to her next words. She needed to do so before Hubert or any of the others had a chance to meddle with her plan, otherwise this would turn into a bloodbath.

'I can tell you everything you want to know about the auras and stuff. Just let my friends leave!'

For the fraction of a second there was a flicker in those azure eyes that seemed to stare directly into Pascal's soul. Then she heard the voice again, this time filled with less aggression and more... curiosity?

'Are you sure you can make that deal, Amarcian?'

She nodded.

'So be it. Your friends shall live for another day while we have a nice, long...talk'

With a sound unheard to Pascal, the bubbles of water that held her friends fell to the ground. The sudden return of gravity forced them on their knees, their body's remembering that there was water in places it didn't belong. One wave of cramps after another shook them as they coughed and barfed out the excessive fluid while they struggled to breathe. Their primal fight for air held them in their grip long enough, that they didn't notice at first the gusts of wind caused by the mighty wings of the dragon. Only when the strong wind began to swirl up the sand and stick on their wet skin and clothes did some of them realize that the dragon was leaving. Still, most of them were, too busy following their instincts and remained on the ground, trying to get out all of the swallowed water to look up and notice that their friend was still captured.

Most, but not Hubert.

Despite the contractions running through his body, trying to force him to the ground he willed himself to look up, directly in the eyes of his lover.

Unable to return his gaze, Pascal broke eye contact and fixed the ground with her stare while she felt the ground under her feet disappearing. As her prison of water moved further away from her friends her eyes did everything possible to avoid looking at them. The expressions she knew she would see were too much for her to bear.

But whatever she did, nothing would be able to save her from that last look Hubert had given her. It was a look of absolute despair.

- Windor -

"Help me! Help! Oh by the three spirits please help!"

A feminine voice echoed through the nightly forests of Gralesyde, not far away from the city. Running between the trees and stumbling every few meters over a branch [] was a young women of slight stature. Muttered curses followed her cries for help whenever she lost her balance, but she kept stumbling on for every second she slowed down could mean her death. Had anybody heard her curses, they would have been shocked that a woman like her knew such a broad specter of filthy words. They didn't fit at all with her appearance and the fear that was in her voice whenever she shouted through the forest.

Eyes that looked like emeralds switched between an expression of fear and anger every time she encountered one of the obstacles. Leaf-green hair flew behind her like water that had decided to defy gravity. It was surprisingly groomed, especially regarding the rest of her appearance. Small scratches covered nearly every piece of skin she had. Her ankle-long white skirt and equally white sleeveless blouse were torn to the point that the amount of flesh they revealed would have turned a few decent persons scarlet in embarrassment.

The reason for her panic wasn't far behind. Two wyrms were following her, close enough to burn her at any moment if they decided to use their fiery breath. Strangely, they weren't even trying to catch the woman. It seemed like they decided to play with their prey before the killing. But their prey seemed determined not to let them win.

"Help! Help! HELP!" the woman shouted again.

Again she received no answer while her feet flew over the leaf-covered ground towards the safe city. She could feel the bushes and trees she passed tearing at her skin, adding to the many scratches she already had. The pain was barely noticeable for her. She only focused on her goal. If she could reach the city, she would be safe. She only needed to hold out a little bit more. Just a little bit...

Another branch on the ground decided that she had been running too long without stumbling. This time however she seemed to be out of luck. Without any chance to react in time she lost her balance and painfully fell to the ground. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she stood up again, her face not betraying any sign of hurt. A quick glance back at her pursuer showed her that they had caught up far too quickly in her opinion, but her eyes didn't show any fear. They continued to stay calm even when she realized that her chances to survive had just slimmed down to near zero. There were things she could care less about.

Quickly the woman began her sprint again when a shout rang out behind her. The undergrowth of the forest cracked of heavy footsteps, revealing a foot soldier with the banner of Gralesyde on his armor, in his hands a long iron spear. With remarkable speed he ran between the woman and the wyrms to jump straight at them in an attempt of what she guessed was either suicide or a demonstration of extreme stupidity. Surprisingly the attack worked.

Before either of the two flying lizards had a chance to react, the spear penetrated the thick scales on the back of the left wyrm and found its way to the heart, sending the creature crashing to the ground. A weak death cry was its last sound before all tension left its body. The newcomer was about to pull his spear out of the dead body and turn to the remaining wyrm when his enemy decided otherwise. As if on command it turned around and left the scene as fast as it could.

Left behind were the soldier and the woman, both panting heavily. Her eyes were wide and fixed on the wyvern's corpse in an expression of shock, her hands held over her heart as if anticipating the spear running through it.

Neither the soldier nor the woman dared to move.

Their heavy breathing and the wind were the only things audible before the woman finally decided to stand up. With precise movements she cleaned her white clothes of leaves and pieces of dirt that had fallen on her,while she tried to hide an especially revealing hole in her shirt. Her emerald eyes didn't dare to look up which made her miss the glance of hunger in her saviour's eyes before he straightened up and approached her.

"An' who're ya, lil' missus?" the soldier began as he reached her.

His voice was rough and heavy with the same southern dialect many of the refugee's in Gralesyde had. It was inevitable now that the city was one of the very few safe havens in the southern regions of Windor. People and patrolling soldiers from every part of the country had begun to flee to the citys, to find safety or help others to maintain it. Gralesyde was just the biggest of them.

The green haired woman went still, her eyes fixed on the floor. It was as if she just now was aware of the soldiers presence who had saved her only a few seconds ago. Suddenly her posture became meek and her shoulders began to shiver, making her the very embodiment of a helpless damsel in distress.

"L-Linda...Linda G-Gondragos, my name is Linda Gondragos," she muttered while still avoiding his gaze, her voice suddenly faint and lacking any confidence.

The sudden change of behaviour didn't go unnoticed to her saviour, but he didn't pay it any further attention. He was far too busy holding her in his arms, stroking her hair when she threw herself at him and began to cry on his shoulder.

"Ya're safe lil' lady, ya're safe. Don' worry, nobody's gonna hurt'ya no mo'. The bad things're gone. I'll protect ya'. Don' worry..."

Minutes passed as he held her, whispering gentle and calming words in her ear while reassuring her safety.

Had he been able to pay any attention to her face, he would have noticed the small devious grin that appeared on her lips. Or that his shoulder stayed dry the entire time she cried on it.

Only an hour later Linda and her saviour found themselves at a table inside the inn of Gralesyde. After they had reached the city her saviour immediately went out of his way to organize rooms for both of them. It took him nearly half an hour of arguing with the innkeeper [] before he seemingly reluctantly handed him a key in turn for a few coins. At least that's what it looked like to Linda while she waited for him near the entrance, seemingly to shy to step in. Coincidence wanted it that there was only one free room with one bed for both.

"Guess we'll have ta sleep t'gether lil' lady. I'm sorry I've to botha ya. But it's fo' the betta. Can't protect ya when I'm in'nother room, don't ya think?"

The soldier gave her a fake smile and got nothing in return but silence.

Wordlessly she sat down at the table he lead her to and ate a few pieces of bread with dry cheese and far too salty ham that were immediately served in exchange for a few coins. She also didn't make a sound while the soldier told her his name, Pinder Damon.

With large gestures he began to tell her stories about adventures he had in his past and foes he had defeated. All of them contained a cheery or funny touch in the way he told them, designed to cheer up the still scared looking woman on the other side of the table.

"... 'n then Malik comes 'round 'n starts askin' what the big deal is. Can ya believe it? This man, THE soldier 'n he throws spells 'n this sword-boomerang everywhere. Just don' fit, ya know? The man 's not the type ta be a weak wizard. If ya' ask me the guy lost his marbles. Perfect stature of a fighter 'n he decides that he wanna be a caster. Never would've thought him the type... N' you know what he's sayin' why he did it? Because you don' give no lessons in fighting with sword-boomerangs. Can you believe it?! The best knight in Windor 'n he became that because he don' wanna give no lessons! Some people I tell ya..."

With a smile he shook his head at the memory of his old days in the knight academy and then looked at his companion, eager to get a reaction. But she just sat there in silence, absent mindedly chewing on her bread and fixing the table with her eyes. The perfect picture of a woman who had been scared to death and still hadn't recovered from it.

He sighed.

After finishing their meal Linda left the table and moved towards the stairs which Pinder took as a silent command to do so as well. Many eyes followed their way towards their room, judging them without any pretense. Outsider's might have thought of Pinder as a sensible fellow, only concerned about the frightened woman. Less friendly voices silently accused him of lesser motives. Voices that knew Pinder didn't even do it silently.

They wouldn't be judging him anymore after this night.

Closing the wooden door slowly behind him, Pinder still stared at it for a moment and took a deep breath. He wouldn't be able to pull through with this. He knew he couldn't. She was beautiful, that much was out of question. Still, he wasn't a terrible man enough to do what he knew most men he counted as friends would do.

It had been his original plan to exploit her temporary weakness in an attempt to bed her, yes. But with fright still clear as day on her face he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not even he was that rotten.

'Sleepin on the floor it is then,' thought the foot soldier. Slowly he turned around from the closed door and began loosing the straps in his armor. He didn't need look to do it anymore, he was an experienced soldier, he knew his armor by heart. So in an attempt to gather his willpower and resist the temptation that was together with him in this room he closed his eyes. He had closed them merely a second, only to open them wide in surprise when he found himself in an intense kiss with the green haired women. The sheer intensity of it was enough to turn his knees into pudding.

Never before had he been together with a woman as intoxicating as Linda. Her green ocean of hair, tall body and cute shyness she easily let her top Pinder's list of women he had ever taken to bed. Not that it was a very long list. His last chance of action had been so many months ago he couldn't even remember it. There was no way in hell that he would turn down this beautiful women who was so eager to take what she wanted.

With full force he returned the gesture and for a while he was content to do nothing more but to feel her soft lips and trace her curves with his hand. Wonderful, beautiful curves he planned to feel a lot more this night.

He was so enchanted by her, that he seemed to forget how to breathe. The lack of oxygen only made itself noticeable when he felt a small contraction in his lungs that demanded fresh air. It was a surprise to him that his partner didn't need to breathe as well. Still, there were other things to worry about. That she didn't let him go for example.

With a mental shrug he settled for breathing through his nose until he noticed that he couldn't get any air in through it as well.

That was the moment he started to get frightened.

Careful not to hurt her he put his hands on her shoulders and gently tried to push her away from him. He already had a funny comeback on his tongue that would tell her to give him more time to breathe on the next go.

He was still waiting for the opportunity when his fear turned into downright panic.

Her hands, so fragile and elegant looking, proved to be stronger than expected and refused to let him get any air.[] His struggle for breath went on while his panic began to escalate and he put all his power into removing this woman from his lips, but her strong arms made any thought of escape a joke. Slowly his vision became blurry from the lack of oxygen. Only one question formed in his mind before he fell into unconsciousness.

'Why?'

Linda felt him getting limp in her arms but that didn't stop her from continuing. The hands that before had pressed him to her now were holding him up. She didn't stop, not even when his heart stopped beating and his body began to emit a faint glow of red, green and blue. The different colored lights were playing on his skin, the glow even notable through his clothes. As if drawn up by an invisible force it began to move towards his head and floweddirectly into the female. Darker and darker became Pinder's body while his light began to fill Linda more and more.

As she took what she wanted from Pinder the green haired woman began to glow brighter by the second until it hurt to look at her. The light began to soften the small wrinkles that had developed on her skin and to heal the countless little wound she had received during her escape earlier. More and more healed her body while Pinder's began to turn into darkness. Once she was finished, she let his remains go. With a faint 'thump' his body fell to the ground and turned into dust.

Taking a step back Linda looked down at herself. Her body had begun to glow in all three colors of Eleth that were in this world: Green wind eleth, red fire eleth and blue water eleth. A frown appeared on her face as her eyes went over the blue and red, which in turn quickly changed their color into a bright green before the glow began to diminish.

"Because you believed me," the green haired woman answered the dead man's unasked question as she opened the door and walked out of the room.

The once judging eyes were surprised when they saw her coming downstairs again and walk through the room, especially with the new confidence in her posture and steps. What had Pinder done to her? Was he finished with her that quickly?

Linda chuckled when she heard some of the things the onlookers were thinking as she left the inn. If only they knew that the only thing Pinder had given her had been dinner. And an even better dinner afterwards. She chuckled again. What these mortals were thinking wouldn't matter anyway.

They would all die the moment she decided that she was done playing with them. Their time would come soon enough.

'So says Gloandi'.

- Strahta -

Despair was no stranger to Malik Caesar. He had seen enough of it to last for several lifetimes and it had left it's scars on him. So he knew all to well the thoughts that were going through Hubert's head right now.

Pascal's capture had led the man of Strahta to the verge of breaking. He had become barely more than a shadow of himself with only one driving force behind him: Finding the one thing that mattered to him that was left on this continent. Finding his love.

If it was despair or rage accompanying these emotions none of the others could tell. They only saw the outer shell of what was Asbel's brother: A man in blue uniform, tense to the point that his every move seemed stiff and abrupt, whose eyes inhabited an unrest so deep that he didn't even need to ask the others to move faster. And who did not trust his voice enough to talk and therefore had grown silent as they rode further towards the Rockgagong-sea.

The sea was their only chance. That was one thing the confrontation had shown them: There was no way to defeat the dragon without help. It had taken all of them and incredible luck to defeat one of its soldiers and they still had received heavy wounds. With the muscles on his chest nearly completely cut through, Asbel was completely unable to fight. Several of Cheria's ribs had been broken even though Sophie was able to heal them, Cheria still hadn't fully recovered. Not even in his current state was Hubert reckless enough to want to directly fight their enemy. So he placed all his hopes in the one item that bared even the slightest chance of success: The smaller Valkines and its guardian.

There was no time to waste. After some rest during the night of the attack they had set out at the first rays of light. Barely didthe turtles halt for rest. They only truly stopped in the evening, the rest of the day they were riding, the scorching sun of the desert shining on them.

Fighting against Duplemar had robbed them of their spirits.

It was a truth for all of them. Burdened with their own feelings as well as their worries about Hubert and Pascal they had enough on their minds already to lay a dark atmosphere over them. There was no need to worsen it. But most certainly, there was also no motivation to improve it, something the captain noticed with a deep frown that was imprisoned on his face. By no means were they in any ability to take on another enemy in their current state, much less another dragon. Not with all these negative feelings that hung in the air so thickly that Malik felt he could cut it with a knife.

Only one way seemed to lead out of this situation, even if it seemed to be one of the most hopeless ways the man of Fendel had ever seen. And as a Fendelian, he had seen many. The way he would need to go would be through the source of it all. There was no possible way to go around it.

It had been the second night after their encounter with Duplemar. The group was sitting near their campfire, sharing a smothering silence that was barely interrupted by quiet conversations. Asbel rested his head in Cheria's lap, both of them seeking comfort in the presence of the other. The wound on the lord's chest was slowly healing, but he was still unable to do more than sitting up without pain. His wife and Sophie were more than willing to support him while he was wounded. Still, the emotional strain his pain put on them was clearly visible. Richard had become silent. Though he and Asbel still shared a few conversations over the day, he was mostly by himself, lost in thought. The tension on all of them was far too obvious to miss.

This had to change, so Malik did the one thing he was able to do in situations such as these: Help others regaining their composure. The hard way, fendelian routine.

With certain steps he walked towards the second fire Hubert had built for himself, apart from the rest of the group.

"Hubert, we need to talk."

The lieutenant in question turned his head slightly and gave the captain an empty look, but Malik could still see the fire that was burning behind them. It was just...diminished.

Malik sighed, then proceeded to continue.

"What do you think you will accomplish like that?"

A confused glare was all the answer he would get from the young man.

"Do you think that there's anything you can do right now to save Pascal? To save Strahta? Can you do anything at all when you only think about self-loathing and self-pity?"

Now that got a reaction. Albeit a harsh one.

"For the sake of our friendship I'll give you this one piece of advice. Say one more word about this and I'll demand you to draw your sword," the lieutenant said calmly.

It was barely audible, but that made his words all the more threatening.

"And do what? Attack me? I guess I should start my own round of self-loathing to even the odds in that fight. In your current condition I wouldn't even feel worried when my only weapon was my razor blade."

The fingers of Hubert were now clenched around his dualblade, but he still hadn't raised it.

"Hubert, I thought you were smarter than this. I've seen myself what you've been through. Hah, I've been through most of it myself a few times. And I've seen how you can't stop thinking about it. It's clear in your eyes every time you try this empty look. You are not like that Hubert. You are a fighter! Even at the very point of giving up, you fight. You do not give up because you have seen countless times the one consequence that giving up leads even if you seem to have forgotten: You die."

The glare of the lieutenant was deadly, but Malik continued without faltering.

"Past pain and fear won't give you back what you have lost. But a calm mind can. And a strong heart can. If you ever wish to accomplish what we have set out to, you will need both."

His last words were meant to hurt and to let Hubert find new resolve within himself. Instead, they seemed to get no reaction at all. Had he paid more attention he would have noticed the shivers of barely restrained anger that ran through the lieutenant. He would have noticed that Hubert was just waiting to lash out at someone, that he was starting to lose control.

Seemingly unable to get a response out of Hubert, Malik turned and made his way back to the rest of the group. Before he was out of hearing range he spoke one last sentence.

"You need to get over their death, only that way can you do what you have to"

Mentioning the death of his foster-family was too much for the lieutenant.

The sound of Hubert standing up behind him made the Captain stop. A small grin appeared on his lips. Finally Malik would be able to hear the words he had wanted to hear all day.

"Malik, draw your sword. I demand a duel."

Or the words he had not wanted to hear.

AN:

Sorry guys, I definitely have to say the next time when I put the story on hiatus. I tried to write during the semester but learning biology kind of takes up most of my brain power. It makes it hard for me to write in a foreign language in a style that I think is acceptable while still imagining the scene's play out, since only the general plot is so far finished, not the scenes by themselves. The duel for example wasn't really planned ^^'.

Anyway, I can't write and at the same time study, so I'll have to move the continuation into my semester breaks. Luckily, summer break finally started so I should be able to hammer out a few more chapters.

I have to thank Aespren at this point again, she noticed the considerable drop in the chapter and how my style had changed. So, this chapter was somehow the work of over two months writing. Yeah, I was that slow. And I had to rewrite it so many times even before Aespren noticed that it was still horrible.

Actually, I'm beginning to ask myself if my plot development is too slow. I kind of write and write but I don't have the feeling it really moves forward and that I use too many words for everything. If any of you decide to write a review and bother to read the AN, please give me feedback about that.